Dave Matthews is a poet, in the purest, most magical sense of the word. There's something ethereal about what he does with the image of a couple laughing and dancing in the rain. Once we had fought our way through to the baggage claim area and retrieved his luggage (which was only one fairly small shoulder bag) we were ready to grab a cab and head back to M...
Lying face down where Euan had lowered her, Melissa felt the hardwood of the bedroom floor pressing against the soft warmth of her body. Still panting slightly, she revelled in the coolness, rolling onto her back to feel it against her heels, her thighs, her bum, her upper back, her shoulders, her elbows. In the darkness, it was purely about touch, about sen...
Nadia Abdirashid, born in the City of Detroit, Michigan, to a Somali Muslim immigrant father and a white American mother, certainly seemed destined for greatness from the get go. Her family history was certainly unique, to say the least. Nadia's father Ali Abdirashid moved to Michigan from the City of Mogadishu, Somalia, as a young man, studied Criminal Just...
"You should've worn the dress." Jol looked at her distorted reflection in the elevator doors. Kina had loaned Jol some dresses yesterday for her first night out, but Jol couldn't bring herself to wear any of them. In the elevator, Jol glanced at the too tight black fabric binding Layla's thighs and breasts. Her skin was bulging in desperate escape from the...
What once was good was bad. What once was bad was worse. Kirk found it was a terribly different world, cruel and horrible, even, now that the new Manager had arrived. He hadn't met her yet, but the entire office seemed to have slipped out of his control and into hers. Sitting in his chair in the President's Office, it was all Kirk could do to keep from shou...
Author's note: This story has elements of fantasy, non-human, female submissive, abduction, ponygirl, and non-consent/reluctance. There are also mild bondage, punk and catfighting themes. Please do skip it if these elements are unappealing to you. It is a kinda weird, and definitely not for everyone. Please do not read this if you are 18, are not allowe...
I had been away on a last minute business trip for a few weeks. It was not a pleasant time, both due to work which went badly but more so because of what happened the day before I left. Gypsy had made a mistake of note. No, not a mistake. She had known what she was doing. She knew I had been mad, crazy angry when I left. I knew I was justified and was quite...
She loved to see his name in her email inbox because it meant he had been thinking of her so far away. They had met online in a chat room a few months ago and had relied on emails and phone calls to get to know one another. There were obstacles to overcome; he was married and living in England and she lived in Iowa. But there was a connection there that was...
Writer's note: Arthur and Digitalis are andynes, which are people with large feathered bird-wings. This story takes place the Sunday after "Just another Tuesday Morning," and the characters are from my "Crimson Changeling" work. * Arthur woke early, as usual. The room was stiflingly warm and both he and Digitalis were in their underwear under their thinnes...
It was murk and midnight hour, my body twisted the moon beams light off their course and scattered them like bits of lace over the soft moss under my toes. The candles outlining a circle around me cast flames with dancing reflections into the shadows. I smile and raise my pale hands, one empty and one grasping the sharpened bone of my long dead lover over my...